Unmade Men
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: A series of Winterhawk drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

******Unmade Men  
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**A Word**: Prompt for love and hate for Winterhawk.

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Clint loves the taste of blood when they kiss. A violent clash of teeth and lips that sucks all the air right out of their lungs. Sucks the fire of their anger right up and cranks the heat even higher until the only thing that can quench it is bare skin.

He loves that almost as much as he loves the way Bucky rises to his bait. Snapping back with words and fists every time Clint pushes further than he should. He loves the fact that Bucky will bait him right back. Jabbing every single button Clint has until they're breaking walls and leaving droplets of blood on the ground everywhere.

He loves the way Bucky goes silent on missions. His words becoming shorter and gruffer when the mask goes on and he seems like an entirely different person even though he's really not. Despite what the look in Steve's eyes might say, Winter Soldier is still Bucky, and Clint loves the fact that he can see what the rest of the team so very clearly misses.

He loves that he can let go then during those missions. Can go as quiet as he needs to be without Tony needling him for witty banter. Can simply do what needs to be done as efficiently as possible and not worry about his actions being questioned. That he can jump down from his vantage point and turn a long distance sniping mission into an up close and personal fight if he feels like it. He loves that Winter Soldier will just roll with it and have his back no matter what.

Clint hates the quiet times though. The times between missions and fights and fucks when he's sacked out on the couch zoning on television, and doesn't even realize Bucky's there until something breaks his zen. Gets his attention away from the TV long enough to notice Bucky's shaggy hair brushing against his arm while the man himself sleeps on the floor. Back pressed up against the couch and head angled towards Clint.

He hates the way Bucky sneaks up on him sometimes. Not with any intent of harm or he'd be thrown across the room, but with an intent that gets Clint pulled in by a warm, fleshy arm and a chaste kiss pressed to the back of his neck. The way a few playful words are whispered in his ear. No trace of any sort of bite at all in the endearments Bucky calls him.

He hates the look that gets in Bucky's eyes sometimes when they're both sweaty and panting, or even when they're not doing anything at all but sitting across the room from each other. It's a soft look. Something tender and gentle that isn't anything that Clint signed up for when they started this thing between them.

He hates, above all else, the way his own breath goes short on seeing that look. The way he aches to reach out for it and pull it in close. To nurture it and make it stay. To make Bucky _stay_.

Clint hates it all, but he loves it too much to even think of giving it up.

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	2. Chapter 2

******Dead Men Tell No Tales  
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**A Word**: Request for Clint getting hurt and Bucky having his back.

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"Ah, fuck me," Clint grunts as a solid boot presses threateningly into his windpipe. Not enough to do any actual damage, just enough to show an intent like it wasn't already fucking obvious when Clint got shot in the fucking gut.

Clint goes limp and plays possum. Groaning less out of a need to act than he'd like, but the lucky punk who got a sucker's shot off isn't paying that much attention to him anyway. He's too busy scanning the dark floor of the warehouse. "I've got your partner! You want him alive, you're going to come out right now! Hands in the air, and if I see you even so much as twitch wrong I'll plug a hole in him!"

No he won't. The stupid fucker has his gun trained on the empty space that Clint _knows_ is empty. He won't even have the chance to push down on Clint's neck before Bucky gets the drop on him. It's a stupid move, and Clint just knows he's going to get so much shit over being taken down by this punk.

"Do you hear me!?" The punk screams, his voice going uncomfortably high as he waves his gun at nothing. "I'll fucking do it! I'll-"

A fine mist of blood puffs out in the air as the punk rockets forward like he was punched from behind. Clint coughs as the boot scrapes uncomfortably across his throat, but forces himself to roll away so that he's not under the corpse when it falls. "Fuck me."

"Later," Bucky drawls out as he drops from the catwalks that the punk hadn't even bothered looking at. His gun is still out and his eyes darting around the warehouse even as he moves to crouch over Clint. "When you're not bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Fuck you," Clint breathes as he attacks the pouches in the small of Bucky's back. Pulling out a compressed gauze pad and ripping it open with his teeth. Pressing it down onto the messily bleeding hole and gritting his teeth against the pain as he hopes like hell it didn't go all the way through. There's only the one bandage between the two of them, and Clint's not looking forward to the disinfecting process he'll have to go through if they use something that's not sterilized to stem the bleeding. "Fuck you up the ass, Barnes. And _that's_ going to happen later tonight. In the fucking hospital after I've been stitched up."

"Don't think the docs'll like that," Bucky's left hand steals down to press over Clint's hands. The cold metal pressing hard enough to make Clint see stars, but that's perfectly alright with Clint. There's a countdown going on over the comms and he knows he's only minutes away from the sweet release of a morphine shot. "You might pop all those stitches you're going to need."

"Guess you'll just have to do all the work then," Clint grunts out as they both hear the clatter of running feet. It coincides with the codes being given over the comms and Bucky moves his gun just as the first medic rounds the corner.

"Whatever you say, dear," Bucky responds as he moves to let the man get at Clint. His voice sweetly innocent even as his hard eyes stare down the portion of the building that hasn't been secured yet. He stays close until the medic has another gauze pad out and urges them both to move their hands. "It's a date."

Bucky leans down and presses a hard kiss to Clint's lips as he feels the pinch of a needle going in his arm. The rush of the drugs is immediate and cooling, but he still hears Bucky's last words. "I'll grab the lube and condoms after I'm done taking care of these dead men."

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	3. Chapter 3

******One Sentence  
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**A Word**: Request for Ca few Winterhawk 1 sentence things.

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kaitouhime1412 asked: A coffin for two?

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"Well, damn," Bucky huffs out as every effort to move only sends more waves of pain through him, Clint makes an amused noise against him —Clint hasn't said anything since his first attempt tire a wound wide and bathe Bucky in blood— and weakly pats his arm when Bucky wraps his flesh arm around him, "Shittiest place to die."

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superbuckybearears asked: WINTERHAWKPROMPT: "Shut up bucky, its just swing dancing, old man - how hard can it be?" Bucky proves him wrong.

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"Fuck you," Clint hisses after the cast has been set and he's been released from the hospital, Bucky's 'concerned boyfriend' act guaranteeing the asshole the night —if not the whole week— on the couch alone.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Be Careful It's My Heart**

**A Word**: A prompt made it's way around Tumble; imagine your OTP knowing they're going to die and dancing together slowly, one of them whispering lyrics into the other's ear. I like the idea too much. Song is the title of the chapter and comes from the musical Holiday Inn.

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"Dance with me," Clint says and Bucky barks out a harsh laugh as the man doesn't wait for an answer. Just pulls Bucky in close and starts to spin them around madly.

Bucky stumbles for the first few steps until he's caught his balance. The loss of his prosthetic arm throwing his balance off more than he'd ever thought it possible. He balks a little and slows them down so that they're not going to get sick with dizziness. Wrapping his right arm around Clint and guiding him into a proper waltz. "Where the hell'd you learn to dance anyway, Barton? A carousel?"

"Don't knock the carnie education, Barnes," Clint gives in easily and cedes lead to Bucky without a fight. Moving with enough grace that it's obvious the man knows how to dance properly. "We know things."

"Sure you do," Bucky allows grandly as they move over the cracked asphalt of the abandoned street. Their boots crunching on charred debris and other things it's best not to think too closely on.

Clint's got both arms wrapped around him and is grinning into his face. All devil may care attitude and that crazy acceptance that shit just happens to him and there's nothing he can do to stop it. The man's got not one regret left and he's doing what he wants in his last moments. Dancing with Bucky in the streets while the rest of the world burns around them.

The heat is getting intense as Bucky decides to follow Clint's lead in this one thing. Pulling the man in so close that they can't really move without tripping over each other's feet. Until they're mostly just swaying together and breathing each others air.

Bucky tilts his head in for a light kiss and sings the words from a musical he saw so long ago. Only part of the words sticking with him, "Sweetheart of mine, I've sent you a valentine. Sweetheart of mine, it's more than a valentine.  
Be careful, it's my heart."

"Sap," Clint laughs against his lips. His own stretching out in a grin Bucky feels as he closes his eyes against the rising heat that presses in like a giant fist. The buildings start to catch fire around them and the ground starts sinking under their feet.

"Says the man who wants to dance," Bucky huffs back and that's how they die. Laughing and clinging to each other. Swaying to the music of flames before falling down.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Turn  
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**A Word**: Request for them arguing about something small while sparing.

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"No," Clint grunts as he's flipped over and thrown. He tucks his head in and manages to turn it into a roll. Coming up on his feet fast enough to block the follow up punch. "I took him out last night while your ass was passed the fuck out on the couch."

"So? That was your turn," Bucky tries kneeing Clint in the gut but aborts the move when Clint throws an elbow at his neck. "I took him out at lunch when you were too busy getting your ass handed to you in Mario Cart."

"Bullshit!" Clint dives. Going for the one knife Bucky hasn't pulled yet and nearly gets a metal fist to the face before he can dodge. "I did take him out," Clint snaps his mouth shut to avoid biting through his tongue as Bucky gets a boot against his chest and pushes hard. "Just because you're stupid enough to fall for the pitiful act doesn't mean I skipped my turn."

"Now that is a load of bull," Bucky fakes left before going left for real. He's leading with his left arm as Clint lashes out with the knife. Taking the hits on the metal and trying to disarm him. "He couldn't even wait till we were off the lobby stairs to take a huge crap. Lunch hour, Clint, you know how many assholes I had to look at while Lucky was taking a dump?"

Clint laughs because that image is hilarious and the knife gets ripped easily out of his hands before Bucky tackles him to the mats. "It's not funny you asshole!"

"Yes it is!" Clint gets out past the laughter still shaking him. Bucky snorts but his lips curl up into a grin as he settles in over Clint. Heavy but not really pinning him down. "How many of them did you tell to fuck off?"

"All of them," and Clint can see it now. Lucky squatting while Bucky stands there in sweats and a ratty hoodie, hair tied back sloppily as he glares down men and women in smart business suits. Clint is going to owe Tony so much to make a copy of that off the security reels. "But seriously, you should've taken the damn dog out, Clint. You're the one who picked him up off the streets and swore you'd take care of him."

"Dog's fine," Clint says when his laughter dies down. He wraps his arms around Bucky and shifts until he's comfortable. "Jarvis monitors him just in case, and can get him outside with one of the lab bots in no time flat. You worry too much."

"You gonna trust your dog to Dummy?" Bucky asks with an arched brow.

"I'm going to trust Dummy to my dog," Clint grins at the frustrated look that slides across Bucky's face. "Seriously, Bucky, you worry too much. Lucky's a smart boy, he can take care of himself. Ain't that right, Lucky?"

There's a growled bark before Lucky jumps onto the mats and they both get a face full of dog breath and tongue.

"Dammit, Lucky!" Bucky tries to growl but Clint can hear the laughter there. So can Lucky, because the dog leaves Clint alone and focuses entirely on the other man.

Bucky rolls off taking the dog with him and Clint sits up to watch them with a grin. His body aching from bruises, but it's easily ignored as Bucky starts laughing for real.

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End file.
